


Long Hair Don't Care

by fatcr0w



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Choices, Drabble, Finn learns making choices isn't so terrible, Fluff, M/M, and also a look into 4c hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatcr0w/pseuds/fatcr0w
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn's hair is getting long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Hair Don't Care

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because all I can think about lately is Finn growing his hair out and Poe loving to twist it between his fingers.

Finn's hair was getting long. Not noticeably, it was perhaps only a half of an inch, but it was longer than he'd ever had it before. The First Order was very strict about lower rank hair care. Each and every one of them, male and female, were regulated to the same variation of cut. The bald, the full crop or if you really wanted to be expressive the short undercut. It was to be trimmed monthly during the squadron's grooming and health rotation. 

Poe had convinced him to "try out new things" after a disastrous attempt to get him into clothing that wasn't black or militarized. The idea of fashion was entirely new to him. But hair didn't have to do anything but grow. 

Among his many get well gifts was a jar of sweet, nutty smelling oils that Poe said came from the Haruun Kal marketplace and was brought by Jivun, an arms runner who kept an intricate flower pattern shaved into the side of her head. She promised to show Finn his way around a razor if his arm was up to snuff when she made her next delivery. 

He was learning how to take care of himself in an indulgent way. Little things, like taking showers at night instead of in the mornings, using five _entire_ minutes of hot water (or if he's really late, lukewarm water) in the blessed privacy of a stall.

Then he rubs the oils into his skin and hair. Not too much or he'd slip right on the tiles to the dressing room, but not so little that he looked like he'd taken a pit stop to roll around on Jakku. Then of course he brushes his teeth, which was a weird thing to learn to do after years of chewing scraper capsules. Sometimes Poe as emerged from his own stall by now, the steam from his Tatooine-hot shower clouding the mirrors so much that he can't see his teeth.

Then they'd both get dressed for bed, Poe in a white tank and sweatpants, his standard in case he had to rush for a midnight scramble. Finn however, was able to make his choice based on comfort instead of practicality. 

This more or less meant that he went to bed outfitted in Poe's stretched out old (soft, nice smelling) lounge wear, despite having perfectly reasonable pajamas of his own. 

It was nerve wracking sometimes, picking out daily clothing was apparently a struggle everyone faced, repressed childhood or not. He still sometimes forgot that he was in charge of his own mealtimes, and on days that his physical therapist let him off the hook early it was confusing to pick one of the many ways he could fill the hours until Poe's squad returned from daily patrol. 

But it was small things, daily things, that made it a little easier to get through what felt like hundreds of choices he had to make every day. One of those small things was letting his hair grow. He didn't have to, it served no purpose, it didn't make Poe's spare helmet fit better when they took (unauthorized) flights around the base, it didn't protect his skin from the sun any more than it had at cropped length. It didn't do anything but twist up into tiny corkscrews that he could separate into a cloud-like mass. 

Finn loved it. He brushed it and took care of it and sometimes found himself preening (preening!) in front of one of the many real mirrors he could find. Poe gave him grief about usurping his position as Resistance poster-child, but didn't seem to mind terribly much. 

How could he, when he so often spent his nights with his hand pressed against Finn's neck to draw him close, one stray, silky corkscrew curl wrapped around his finger. 

Yes, Finn was finding it easier and easier to make decisions because it was becoming clearer and clearer that no matter what he ate for lunch or wore to physical therapy, his day would end in the same lovely way. 

Wrapped up in the arms of the Resistance's best pilot, getting his hair stroked while said pilot snored loud enough to wake a hibernating bantha. 

It was wonderful.


End file.
